Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away
by Akimi Kono
Summary: Warren Muck meets freshman Lydia Spencer his Senior year at high school and falls in love with her. After he graduates, he volunteers for the draft and has to leave her. He promises he'll be back. Can he keep the promise? SkipxOC. Richard Speight Jr. May go from T to M later.
1. Chapter 1

Junior year at Tonawanda High School was when Skip had met Lydia Spencer. She was going to enter high school the next year and was with a group of 8th graders who were touring the school. It was between classes, a passing period, when the group was caught up in the rush of students moving into their next classroom. Skip had been with a friend when they passed by the group of smaller students who were standing with their backs against the lockers. At first he thought that they were just freshmen that had been pushed out of the way by upperclassmen until he noticed the visitor badges they wore.

Lydia had her badge pinned to the front of her dress, which was red with white polka dots and had short sleeves that showed off her slim arms. Her hair was curled and pulled back tightly into a high pony, the curls bouncing every time she moved. She had her hands behind her back and was staring down at her black polished shoes, waiting until the other kids had passed through the hallway into their classes. Skip had slowed down and was being pushed past by several students in a hurry to make it across the school. He stared at her unintentionally, noticing how small she seemed against the dark green lockers. Everyone else had someone to talk to, murmuring or laughing or _something_ but she was alone. Even though she was right in the middle of the line of junior high students, she seemed so out of place – so isolated.

Finally she happened to look up and caught Skip's eye. Her face burned red when she realized that he was staring at her and looked back down at the floor. A moment later she turned her eyes back up and smiled shyly at him. He smiled back at her and watched as her face turned as red as her dress.

He felt a hand slap him on the back and turned to his friend who had been waiting expectantly beside him. He raised his eyebrow at Skip at told him that they needed to head to class.

"Right," he said, glancing back at the girl who had tilted her head downwards and hid her face with her long curls. He continued on with his classes but couldn't stop thinking of her. After school he went to the principal and casually asked what school the group had been from. He replied that it was one of six groups touring the school and he didn't recall what school it had been.

Skip went through the rest of the school year, keeping a look out for the girl on his walks to and from school. He never saw her at any of the middle schools close to the high school and never saw her at any of the stores he went to. He hoped that during the summer he'd run into her, but he didn't. She wasn't at any after school party, no carnival or fair or festival or event that he attended. He thought maybe she'd been a dream, just a thought of a girl that he had somehow seen standing against school lockers. He started to give up on finding the mysterious brunette when school started again. He was in his Senior year and had considered volunteering for the draft after graduation. Several other friends that graduated in the years before had already volunteered and were training – a few had been drafted and were already overseas.

Skip and a group of other Seniors were taken out of biology class and were told they were going to be mentors to a group of incoming freshmen. They were taken down into the 9th grade English class where they were introduced to the freshmen and assigned to them. Ben Walker got a blond boy with glasses; John Harrod was assigned to a little brunette boy in a striped shirt that swallowed him up; Susan Peters was paired with a straight-haired girl in a yellow dress; and Bobby Fields was partnered with a red-headed girl covered in freckles.

Skip stood alone at the front of the class, the last to be assigned. He looked out into the sea of faces, all blurred together as they turned to talk to each other. At last the teacher called out,

"Warren, you'll be paired up with … Lydia."

He looked out into the group of kids until he saw a thin arm raise near the back of the class. He sighed and started to trudge to the back of the class. When he was halfway down the aisle he looked up to see the brat he'd been assigned to only to see the sweet, tan face of the mystery girl from last year. His heart skipped a beat as he stopped at her desk. She smiled kindly up at him.

"Hi," she cooed in her quiet voice, "I'm Lydia."

"I'm Warren," he replied hoarsely. He cleared his throat and stuck one hand in his pocket. "Most people call me Skip though."

"Why?"

"Because I skip so much school."

She laughed and looked down at her desk. "Uhm, well, you're not going to skip a lot this year will you?" She looked back up at him. "It's my first year here. I think I'm going to need a lot of mentoring."

He couldn't tell if she was being honest or somehow innocently added an innuendo to her statement. He swallowed hard and shrugged, pretending to think it over. "Yeah, I'll do my best to be here. I mean, I guess if you'll need a lot of help."

"Thank you."

Just looking at her, Skip couldn't tell if it was going to be a very short school year, or a very long one. But either way, he knew that just one year wouldn't be enough time with her. He hoped it'd feel like the longest school year ever.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hey guys! Second chapter is done! I hope you like it. I don't know why I capitalize the "S" in Senior but not the "F" in Freshman, but I do, so...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Band of Brothers or any other part of it. I'm just borrowing Skip for my own entertainment ~ My OC belongs to me, though, and any other OCs belong to me.

Enjoy! R&R! (PS Sorry for any spelling mistakes.)

* * *

"Science is probably my worst subject," Lydia said as she scribbled a note in her notebook.

"That's my worst subject too," Skip replied, leaning his arms on the table and staring at the top of her head and she bent over her notebook.

She looked up suddenly, "Oh. Well that doesn't help me." She gave a kind laugh, "That's okay though."

"I'm not the best mentor I guess. I'm bad at all the subjects you need help in."

"That's not true. Besides that just means that they're hard classes." She sat up straight and folded her hands on the table. "I don't think anyone is good at science, though."

Skip kept his eyes on hers and she held the gaze. Her face was pink in the afternoon heat and some loose strands from her curls were sticking to her temples. Her bottom lip trembled and Skip felt the urge to kiss her. His head leaned in closer towards hers just slightly and he imagined what it'd feel like to have his lips pressed against hers. She bit her bottom lip self-consciously and watched as Skip slowly came closer, inching forward.

Her eyes fluttered and she felt her face flush hot as he leaned across the table towards her. She didn't know what to do. She thought he was going to kiss her, but she'd never kissed anyone before. She didn't know what to expect or how to act. She'd seen in movies that couples always closed their eyes when they kissed. She slowly closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Were girls supposed to kiss their mentors?

Just when she figured she'd feel him close to her, she felt something brush against her face. Her heart raced and she nearly jumped at the contact but it felt different than what she had expected. She opened one eye and then the other to see Skip was sweeping his fingers over her cheek. She blinked rapidly and began to shrink back shyly.

"I thought you had ink on your face," he said quietly, his hand retreating to his lap.

"Oh," she replied, embarrassed. Her hands flew up to her face and she covered her cheeks. "Did I?"

"No."

"Okay. Thank you..." She stared in mortification at her notebook and refused to look back up at him. It had been two weeks since school started and she'd been hanging around him every day. He had proved to be quite the nice and smart boy but also had the circle of friends that deemed school wasn't worth their time. So far he hadn't skipped out on any school but he'd been late showing up to one of their scheduled study breaks. She had waited at one of the desks in the back of the room, quietly reading through her textbook until he showed up, shirt ruffled and hair displaced. He took her out into the hall and they sat against lockers, reading through her notes and trying to study. They ended up talking instead. He told her that he was late because he had snuck out of the last half hour of his previous class and went out to the lake with his friends. After he realized what time it was, he rushed back to school but was still late.

He then had taken her notebook and started drawing in it. "You'll read it later," he said, "and after I graduate you can read it over again and remember."

Every now and again he'd take her notebook and write something down in it and tell her that she could read it later. Now sitting at the table, he felt no urge to write in the small paper book. Lydia had it protectively under her hands and was staring down at it intently. Even if he wanted to write something, he'd never be able to pry it out of her arms.

They sat in silence as the minutes wasted away. The air suddenly seemed stiff and it was unusually hot. Skip shifted in his seat and looked across the empty cafeteria. He wondered how much longer until study period was up and they'd both have to leave.

"Uhm, Skip?"

He turned back to look at the small girl who looked up at him bashfully.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have a notebook of your own?"

"Not with me," he said, forgetting that he didn't even own one.

"Oh... that's all right. I can just do it in my notebook." She picked up her pen and turned to a fresh page, pressing the tip to the paper and writing out what appeared to be a letter. Skip leaned forward, trying to catch a peek at what she was scribbling but she shuffled the notebook closed towards herself. He sat back and tapped his fingers on the table, waiting for her to finish. The page flipped and she continued writing. He sighed deeply and began to count the freckles along Lydia's arm. He could only spot a few but knew she had more on her face. Finally she sat up and blew on the wet ink then tore out the two pages she had written on. She folded them neatly and handed it to the waiting boy.

He started to turn it around to open it but she grabbed his wrist. "Don't read it yet," she said. "You can read it later, then after you graduate you can go back and read it over again and remember."

He looked down at the neat cursive etched into the paper with black ink and then looked back at the girl. "When is 'later'?"

Lydia thought this over and answered, "Put it away somewhere and when you find it again, you can read it then."

"What if I find it a week from now?"

"Then read it."

"And what if I don't find it for 15 years?"

"Read it then."

Skip looked back down at the folded paper and slapped it against his palm. "Fine. I'll put it away when I get home tonight."

"Good."

They shared the last few minutes of study hall in happy silence then packed up their things and parted. Skip thought about the letter in his back pocket for the rest of the day, occasionally reaching back to pat his pocket and make sure it was still there. At one time, a friend passed by and tried to grab the edge of the paper and pull out the letter, but Skip turned around and punched him in the shoulder.

"It's just a piece of paper," the friend said, rubbing his sore arm. "Why are you so defensive?"

Skip said nothing but moved the letter to his shirt pocket and sat with his arms crossed for the last bit of class. He moved it to the waistband of his pants and pulled his shirt over it on his walk home so it wouldn't fall out or get blown away in the breeze. The walk home was a quiet an uneventful one and when he reached his house, he threw open the door and marched straight to his room. He pulled the letter out of his waistband and shoved it into one of the drawers in his oak desk and told himself to forget about it.

That night he shared dinner with his family and finished any schoolwork he had in his pack before throwing himself onto the bed. He buried his face in the pillow and tried to sleep but Lydia's face popped up in his mind immediately. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. He had almost kissed her today, but he didn't. Why didn't he? He was very close to doing it. Then he remembered that he was a Senior and she was a freshman. He was graduating that year and she still had three years of school left. He rolled onto his side and looked at his school bag on the floor, textbooks and paper everywhere.

He'd written and drawn a lot of things in Lydia's notebook, but he'd never actually _written_ anything. They were all just ramblings and thoughts, not any letters or thoughtful notes. But _she_ had taken time to write out a letter – a full two pages, and it was sitting in his desk waiting to be read whenever he got around to finding it again.

_Two weeks_, he thought, _it's only been two weeks and I've tried to kiss her. I don't know how I'm going to get through the school year._

It was silly, he realized, that he was acting in such a way about a freshman girl. He would be gone and in the military at the end of the school year and she'd still be there, learning math and science and how to sew dresses. There were plenty of Senior girls he could choose from anyways. He'd leave the freshmen for the freshmen and chase after one of the busty 12th graders in his English class. After all, he was her mentor – he was supposed to look after her, not flirt or daydream of kissing her.

So it was settled. He'd only be like a friend to her, maybe even a big brother – but would definitely _not_ be interested in her in any other way. And he would _absolutely not _stare at her lips while she was talking or try to touch her hand when they were walking side by side or get her to skip school and go to the lake with him – that is until he saw her again at school and forgot all about being a mentor, a friend and a big brother.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Woo hoo! Another chapter done! (I'm totally not avoiding the other stories I promised my giveaway winners hahahaha). I hope you enjoy this one. We're getting farther along in the school year but not too far.

THINGS. man. THINGS HAVE TO HAPPEN. Conflicting emotions. I don't want this to end up like my 40+ chapter story that I never finished/got to the point. I am trying to rush things but NOT, if you know what I mean.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Band of Brothers or any part of the franchise. All my respect to the men and their families. SORRY FOR GRAMMAR ERRORS.

Please enjoy! R&R. I love reviews. Seriously. They make my life so much happier.

* * *

There were a lot of things that Skip didn't quite understand, and Lydia was one of them. The way she moved, all of her limbs pulled to close to her body so she didn't bump into anything; the way she stopped short to allow others ahead of her, instead of continuing on in a graceful way and cutting through lines; the way she apologized for everything, even if it wasn't her fault. It was entertaining to watch her from afar. Quite often he'd stay behind and watch her amble through a group of students, keeping to herself and clutching her books close to her chest, her head down and steps small but quick.

He'd stride along beside her, hands in pockets, head up and scanning the crowds. Occasionally (okay, more than occasionally, more like every other moment) he'd cast a sidelong glance at her and smile to himself. There was something unusual about her and he quite liked it.

Tuesday afternoon they sat outside in the grass under one of the large trees, cooling off in the shade. They had finished their sack lunches and were just resting against the trunk of the tree watching other students come and go across the schoolyard. Lydia shifted to adjust the way she was sitting and her hand slipped, brushing against Skip's. He jolted up and drew his hand away, looking over at her. She pulled her hand away too and looked away, her face burning hot.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly, "I didn't mean to … uhm... I mean …"

Skip wasn't sure why he reacted in such a way. Isn't that what he wanted? He forced himself to relax and put his hand back down in the grass.

"It's okay," he said coolly, "it didn't bother me. It just kind of surprised me."

Lydia glanced at him, holding her hands in her lap. " 'Kind of' surprised you?"

It was his turn to blush so he turned away and acted as if he was watching a group of kids walking into the school. "Yeah."

Lydia watched him unbelieving and rested back against the trunk, staring at the back of his head. She sighed and turned to look out in front of her, pressing her fingers together. She looked over at him discreetly to see he was still turned away then silently placed her hand on the grass. She casually crept her fingers closer towards his until they were a few centimeters away. She looked to her right, away from Skip, and carefully touched the edge of her finger against his. To her silent joy he didn't pull away this time. His fingers curled a bit then stretched back out, pressing gently against hers.

Neither of them vocally acknowledged the contact but both quietly reveled in it; Lydia hummed on the inside and Skip felt his mind start to float away. He edged his hand against hers and eventually his fingers were over hers, his palm resting on the back of her hand. There was something unusually amazing about this moment. He'd held hands with girls before, and had kissed girls before and had done all sorts of things but nothing had ever felt like this. Sitting under the shady oak in the afternoon, legs stretched out and mind wandering across the rolling green hills, hands touching and feeling her smooth skin under his few calluses; for the first time in a long time, Skip was honestly and truly happy.

Not long after that, the bell rang and both shyly pulled their hands away, having to admit that they consciously knew about the contact. Skip stood up first, brushing off his pants and extended an arm towards the brunette who still sat on the ground. She slid her hand into his, held down the hem of her dress with her other hand and was hoisted up by the older teen. Their hands lingered together then dropped apart as they both adjusted their clothes and headed back to the school.

Before they reached the door, Skip stopped and turned towards Lydia.

"I have Speech."

"I have English."

"Is that important to you?"

She smiled at him, "Yes."

"Oh. Okay then. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

He stayed standing next to her, though, instead of heading inside. She didn't make a move either. Her eyes flickered from his face to his chest and back. He balled his hands into fists and moved his eyes around her face. Lydia began to fidget with her dress and looked down.

Maybe this was it. Maybe it was time. His opportunity to steal a kiss from the freshman in his care. He blinked a few times and took a hesitant shuffle forward. He unclenched one hand and started to move it up towards her face. His fingers were outstretched towards her and were nearly brushing her face when a voice rang out:

"Hey Skip!"

Both teens jumped and the older one pulled his hand back quickly, closing it into a fist again. They turned to see a boy around Skip's age jogging up towards them. He stopped a few feet from them and walked the rest of the way, catching his breath and smoothing his hair over. He looked from Lydia and Skip and quirked one eyebrow.

"What's going on?"

Lydia and Skip exchanged looks. He shrugged and looked back at his friend, crossing his arms.

"She had a leaf in her hair and I was getting it out."

"Oh..." He looked at the girl who pushed her hair behind her ear and gave a half smile. "I'm Luke, by the way," he said, extending a hand. She shook it and then cross her own arms.

"I'm Lydia."

"Nice to meet you Lydia. Are you a friend of Skip's?"

"Yeah..."

"I'm her mentor, Luke."

"Oh. That's neat." Luke's eyes were trained on Lydia's face. Skip cleared his throat and Luke inhaled deeply and stood up straight. He looked over at the young man, "So you heading to class or you skipping today?"

"No, I'm going to class."

"Shame. I was gonna head out to Doug's and pick up a Coca Cola and head down to the lake." He paused, "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Yeah I'm sure."

"I heard Cynthia Kemper was going to the lake," he added, raising both eyebrows knowingly.

"No, that's fine, Luke. I'm just going to go to class."

"Alright. You're probably late, though."

Lydia's head shot up and she stared at them with wide eyes. "Oh no! I can't be late!"

Both boys looked at her then at each other.

"It's fine Lydia," Skip said, stepping towards her, "tell your teacher you were with your mentor."

"No, I can't do that – I mean I guess I can but I …"

"I'll walk you to class then," Skip interrupted, "and _I'll_ tell your teacher you were with me."

She looked up at him, flustered. "...thank you."

Luke shifted his gaze between Skip and Lydia, noticing the unbreaking eye contact and physical closeness of the two and let a small smirk play on his lips.

"Right on Skippy," he murmured to himself. Then, louder, he announced, "Well I'm off to the beach to frolic and flirt and maybe even make a date." He patted Skip on the shoulder then nodded his head towards Lydia and made a motion of removing an invisible hat, turned on his heels and set off away from the school.

Lydia watched as Luke strode across the schoolyard to his freedom but quickly noticed as Skip took her hand and led her inside the school and down the hall to her classroom. They paused outside the door and shuffled their feet awkwardly.

"Don't want to be too late," Skip said, pressing his lips together. "Your teacher might not believe the mentor story."

A blush made its presence on the girl's face and she let out a breathy laugh. "You're right. We should go in."

"Yeah we should."

Another moment. Lydia squeezed his hand and then let go, letting her fingertips trail his palm. She swore she saw him shudder but she blinked and he was opening the door, leading the way to the teacher's desk. Lydia meekly followed, hands folded in front of her, eyes focused on the heels of the boy's shoes. She stopped behind him and he smiled at the teacher.

"Sorry Lydia's late," he said smoothly, "she was with me."

Immediately, there were murmurs all around the classroom. Every student turned to their neighbor to whisper some ill-conceived thought about the two, relating rumors to each other that they had instantly thought of.

The teacher glanced out to the classroom then folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward, staring Skip down.

"I understand you're her mentor and I appreciate you spending time with her, since she needs it – but I'd also appreciate it if you didn't cut out her learning time by keeping her out of her classes."

"I'm sorry Mr. Hampton. Time just slipped away and we didn't even realize she was late."

"Don't forget that you're late too," he stated, pointing a finger at the boy. "Now I'll forget it for today. Lydia," he looked over Skip's shoulder at the brunette, "you may take your seat. And you, Warren," he looked back at him. "You may go to your classes."

"Thank you sir."

Skip turned sharply and stared down at Lydia who gave a curt nod and stepped away.

"See you tomorrow," he called out as she shuffled to her seat through a chattering aisle.

"Bye," she whispered, mostly to herself as she pulled herself down to her chair and stared at her desk. Skip watched her for a moment then marched out of the room, closing the door behind him. Lydia shrank down into her desk, head hidden by her arms. The students next to her laughed quietly and muttered comments at her.

"Are you two dating or something?"

"Gosh, he really likes spending time with you."

"He must give really good mentoring."

"I bet mentoring isn't the only thing he's giving her."

Finally Mr. Hampton stood at the front of class and cleared his throat, "That's enough class. Everyone settle down." Once the students quieted, he continued, "Now I believe we were on page 94 of your textbooks. If you will turn there now, we'll continue our notes."

Lydia pushed herself up and retrieved her notebook from her bag, placing it on the desk and flipping it open. She passed all of the notes and drawings Skip had scribbled but that she had yet to read. _Later_, he had said, _read them later and remember. _

Sarah Welkner, the young blonde who sat directly in front of Lydia, turned around and stared at the students whispering. "Leave her alone. We were _all_ assigned mentors."

"Yeah, but no one spends as much time with their mentor as Lydia," Nathaniel Cornell replied meanly.

"That's because Lydia's mentor can actually stand being around her, unlike yours, _Nathaniel_."

He stopped talking after that. Lydia shyly looked up at Sarah and gave a half-hearted smile. "Thanks."

She smiled back warmly, "It's no problem. And if anyone says anything mean again, just tell me. I have one of the football players as my mentor, so if you tell me I'll tell him and he can take care of them."

Lydia couldn't help but laugh at that and Sarah laughed too. For the first time since the 4th grade, Lydia felt like maybe she had a chance at making a real friend in at least one of her classes. Sarah turned back around and everyone started to take down notes as Mr. Hampton lectured at the front of the class. Still, Lydia couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't tell what was making her smile more – Sarah's kindness and coming to her defense, or holding hands with Skip.

She had to stop taking notes to bury her face in her hands, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. Perhaps Tuesdays weren't too bad of a day after all.


End file.
